


Redacted (First) Impressions

by TheGoodNoodle



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Co-workers, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, POV Oma Kokichi, Pining, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Shuichi is not a Yandere, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Oma Kokichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22907695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodNoodle/pseuds/TheGoodNoodle
Summary: “My name is ******* ***. My audition number is three-hundred fifty-one.”...Upload Complete!Submission sent ✔(Or a fic in which pregame Kokichi Oma meets a one Shuichi Saihara)
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 181
Collections: SaiOu Winter Exchange 2019





	Redacted (First) Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilMuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/gifts).



**I.**

_Life has no meaning._

-

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“My name is ******* ***. My audition number is three-hundred fifty-one.”

“I’m… always looked down on and.. I probably deserve it. So, I thought, fuck my memories huh? It’s not like I care about anyone. Just… I don’t want to be weak anymore. I want to be rewritten as someone less weak. Maybe I could be someone to look up to, like a leader. But, it doesn’t matter what I am; I’m desperate, and isn’t that what you want from people? People so desperate that they’ll willingly offer their lives away to become part of a killing game?”

Upload Complete!

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_You will be notified of your approval or rejection within the next 30 days. We thank you for your application!_

-

_Every day is a string of bland pointless blurs that bleed into the next like watercolor paint._

_So, why not make life as interesting as possible?_

-

Kokichi Oma stares blankly. He presses down on the lit power button of his computer monitor, effectively shutting it off. It’s done. That’s it. The chance that they’ll consider him is low, but maybe they - _Team Danganronpa_ \- will find value in him that no one else has. He barely got a submission number. It took hours of staying awake, eyes peeled, staring at the stinging blue light of the screen until he requested an audition as fast as he possibly could. Even still, he ended up with number three-hundred fifty-one. He wonders how someone could possibly get the first audition.   
  


Applying for Danganronpa has become much more… commonplace, ever since they began using simulation technology. As strange as it may seem, not everyone is exactly willing to stake their lives on a show, but for some, their memories are a small price to pay for becoming a part of the show. Though it might also have something to do with the prize money, Oma doesn’t care much about that. He’s omniscient enough to know that he definitely doesn’t have a very high self-worth… or self-preservation for that matter, but it’s not like he can change that just from being aware of it.

**II.**

School is boring.

Each additional day of school he's feeling more tired and drained, regardless of how much he falls asleep in class. What is the point of working if he has nothing to work towards? 

**III.**

Shuichi Saihara.

It’s the name of his new coworker… the one he’s supposed to be training. Oma’s worked at the place for not even a year, yet his boss says he’s qualified to teach the boy that was hired just a few days ago. 

“Thank you for shopping! Have a great day!” He repeats his response, with his cyclic forced smile bridging his cheeks. It’s almost robotic, in how habitual and automatic it’s become after saying it to every single customer once they’ve paid. He looks to Saihara once the little bell on the door rings, signaling the exit of the customer, and he’s back to his normal expression. It’s not a frown, but it’s definitely not a smile either. “And that’s it. Did you want to try?” he offers, not really sure himself.

Saihara’s staring at him closely, like he doesn’t know what to make of him, but yet he still startles at the response. His brows furrow together but he does nod, so Oma moves aside and lets Saihara stand in front of the register instead. Saihara mumbles as he looks down at the keys, “I wonder why...”

Oma tilts his head at the unfinished sentence as he assesses Saihara. He’s taller than him, and he seems nervous. Oma can also see that he’s good looking, but he probably isn’t a very popular or outgoing person, judging by his mannerisms. 

**IV.**

Working is… habitual for Oma. It’s not that he particularly hates it, and he does make money, but he only does it because he knows that he’d otherwise be doing legitimately nothing, and doing something at least makes him feel a little better about himself. Regardless of how much he dreads being a functional human being in general, he has to - he has to because he’s terrified of what will happen if he stops. 

**V.**

“Ah, Oma-kun,”

Oma looks over with curiosity at the other as he restocks shelves. It’s only the two of them right now. There haven’t been many customers because of the cold, dreary weather. It’s also a Monday, so people are too busy working or at afterschool activities to have any need to stop at the relatively small convenience store. 

“Your cheek…” Saihara trails off, scratching his wrist, and Oma reflexively lifts his hand and brushes his fingers over the scrape, reminding him of it with a slight sting.

He lifts up the corners of his cheeks, walls raising, “hmmmm?” 

“W-wait, I have-” Saihara cuts himself off as he runs off into the employee’s only door. It’s a little room with a few tiny lockers that Oma throws his school bag in on the days he comes straight from school. Saihara comes back with a bag of his own and huh- Oma didn’t expect Saihara to have so many Danganronpa pins, or any really; there’s a little Monokuma keychain hanging from one of the zippers too. He raises his eyebrows and even smiles a little bit at the thought of someone else liking what he likes, but it’s smothered by the fear of being _known_ , of showing who he _really is_ , and Saihara is oblivious to all this as he tugs a band-aid out of the front pocket and hands it to Oma. 

It’s like his mind fizzles like a burnt-out lightbulb for a second when Saihara, instead of just handing him the band-aid like a normal person, envelops Oma’s hand with his own and deposits the band-aid with the other. Oma’s sure that’s not normally how people give other people band-aids, or anything, but the feeling of Saihara’s shockingly warm hand is gone as quick as it arrived when he releases him and smiles. Oma’s even more embarrassed because he actually briefly considered if Saihara was a warm or cold hands person, which isn’t normal, because who does that? Who thinks about their co-worker’s hand temperature - who he doesn’t really know, but seems really nice, if handing him a band-aid could be considered a point of reference. 

Oma’s not even sure what tangent his mind is going off on this time, so he looks down in his hand at the band-aid and sees that - _huh,_ it’s got Kyoko Kirigiri on it. He must’ve mumbled her name aloud because Saihara gasps and has an expression that almost reminds Oma of a dog wagging its tail. “You watch Danganronpa?” Saihara grabs his hands again, and Oma knows he can’t blame his blush on anything else but Saihara if questioned. 

He squeaks out an “mhm,” and tries to look back at the band-aid that’s now fallen on the floor after Saihara grabbed his hands, and he ends up just looking at their hands. _Why is he so focused on Saihara holding his hands?_

Saihara lets go and runs to put his bag away again, at least, that’s what Oma assumes. It gives him a moment to pick the band-aid up off the floor and come to realize why, in fact, Saihara handed him the band-aid in the first place. _...Does he… expect me to put this band-aid on my face?_

 _...But, it would be rude not to._ So he opens the band-aid and sticks it on his face, approximating where he puts the cottony part over the place on his face that’s stinging the most when he brushes his finger over it. It wasn’t even bleeding, but Saihara practically beams when he comes back, and the rest of his shift goes by like a fog. He’s not really able to focus on anything after experiencing that - he was completely unprepared. 

**VI.**

Oma isn’t sure why he keeps thinking about Saihara. He’s ashamed of himself. Why does he keep going back to the feeling of Saihara’s hands on his? It was completely… _platonic?_ Except Oma doesn’t think that word works either, because there’s no way him and Saihara are friends, even if they’ve spent a total of fifteen hours together total since he met Saihara three days ago; he’s known him _three days_ , and already, he has some dumb, crush, or something. He doesn’t know what to do with it, and having not had any physical contact that wasn’t bodily damaging with someone in as many years as he can remember, isn’t helping him. He groans aloud as he face-plants into the open textbook on his mattress. He wouldn’t call it a bed, since it has no sheets and sits on the floor instead of being sandwiched between a bed frame. 

He peers over to the side of his resting place where his little trash can is and of course, there’s the band-aid that he peeled from his cheek immediately after getting back from work last night - _not home, he’s never “home” when he’s here_ \- and _of course_ everything he looks at is reminding him of the boy. 

He’s not supposed to do this - to want to be _held;_ he’s not a damn child. He _definitely can’t_ count the number of times he’s thought about Saihara hugging him on one hand. _He’s not supposed to do this._

For one of many times, he wonders why he’s like this. _Why is he like this?_

**VII.**

Oma’s something of a… target, at school. He fits the parameters perfectly; he’s small, short, effeminate, generally weak, quiet. It’s nothing dramatic like being beaten up within the school, luckily. It’s the little things, like being tripped in the hallways by an upperclassmen’s ‘conveniently’ outstretched foot and then snickered at, having a book of his be hung high above his head, out of his reach, by another student until he repeated whatever idiotic thing they wanted him to say, the occasional mockery, his belongings getting stolen when he’s not looking, being chosen as the designated monkey in the middle as his belongings are tossed between two guys that think they’re the absolute pinnacle of comedy, and various other meaningless things he deals with.

School is something he can handle, though. 

**VIII.**

“Oma-kun.” Saihara ducks his head as he pushes his phone into Oma’s hands. It’s open on the contacts screen, and Oma stares at it for a second, the unfilled contact info, before realizing it’s Saihara’s roundabout way of asking him for his number. He smiles a little and Saihara’s eyes widen, his expression becoming pretty serious as he takes in Oma’s grin. 

Oma doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Saihara points it out, “You’re smiling.” 

Even though he’s a little self-conscious now it’s been acknowledged, he still nods, and smiles even wider; he hands the phone back to Saihara, his number in place.

**IX.**

He wishes he could handle being home as well as he can handle school.

**X.**

Saihara texts Oma _a lot_. 

He’s _constantly_ sending messages about anything and everything, especially Danganronpa. As Oma reads through he wonders if Saihara just texts him every time he _thinks_ something. It doesn’t bother him though; every time he gets a new message he smiles in a way that he would deny if he were face to face with Saihara. 

It’s a little weird, but hearing Saihara’s thoughts and theories and opinions is so interesting. Oma really hopes Saihara doesn’t get discouraged by his own lack of response. He doesn’t ignore him, but his replies are far and few between - things like little smile emotes and one-word responses. He doesn’t exactly know how to reply otherwise.

He can’t help but feel hesitant. Talking about his own opinions makes him feel self-centered and narcissistic, and he wants to be anything but that. What if Saihara thinks that he turns everything around to make it about himself? Saihara probably doesn’t want to hear what he has to say anyway… Oma’s come to accept the fact that people don’t want to hear what he has to say, so he stays quiet. 

That doesn’t stop him from reading all of Saihara’s messages over again and grinning secretively under his blanket.

**XI.**

Saihara invites him over the next day. It’s Sunday, and neither of them is scheduled at work, so Oma accepts. 

Getting ready is nerve-wracking for Oma, because he can’t remember the last time he had a friend to hang out with. It’s such a “normal people” thing to do - leisurely spend the day with friends. It’s a thing that feels so out of the ordinary to someone like Oma. He puts on a long sleeve shirt but then changes out of it after his nervousness makes his body temperature rise, and the sleeves feel a little too tight and warm. He puts it on again because of how bare his arms feel in a T-shirt and maneuvers around the floor and out the door before he can change his mind or before his aunt notices his presence. 

The first impression Oma has of Saihara’s living space is that it’s quiet. It’s also pretty neat and ordinary, and Saihara makes no mention of any parents or relatives which leaves Oma feeling a little curious. 

The day is surreal. He and Saihara talk and watch some of the earlier seasons of Danganronpa while eating some artificial tasting junk food, and it’s _fun._ _It’s so fun._ He’s shocked about how natural it feels, spending time with the other boy. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so content, ever had a true, genuine smile on his face for so long - ever had someone else have such a genuine smile on their face in return. 

Saihara asks him things and he answers them, because if he’s asked, then he can talk about himself. Oma’s glad that Saihara wants to know about him just as much as he wants to learn about Saihara.

He wants it to last, and there’s a twisting feeling in his chest because he’s already convinced that it won’t.

-

When Oma gets back, it’s late enough that he has to sneak in through his window - the apartment is on the ground floor, and the screen already has holes torn into it that make it easy to reach in and remove before placing it back and latching it in. The brass latch reminds him of the color of Shuichi’s eyes as he locks it - Oma’s not sure when Saihara became _Shuichi_ \- and he’s so caught up in _Shuichi_ , and _talking to Shuichi_ , that he _jumps_ when a door slams, shaking all thoughts of his day out of his mind. 

**XII.**

Oma doesn’t know what to do. The day after visiting Saihara had been one of the worse ones recently, and Shuichi catches onto it through his messages somehow and asks him if he’s _okay_ of all things.

And Oma replies, “why?”

Oma doesn’t know what to do when Shuichi Saihara sends him the five-word message, “because I care about you…”

_No one cares about him. That’s just how things are. There’s no way Saihara actually cares about him. Why would he?_

**XIII.**

_If Shuichi cares about him, then why couldn’t his parents?_

**XIV.**

He’s not exactly sure when he and Shuichi became friends, but he supposes it happened somewhere between Shuichi making it known that he was generally concerned for Oma’s well being, ( _that_ ’s never happened to him before; have someone be _concerned?_ About _him?_ The ridiculous idea rolls around in Oma’s head like an optimistic interposition), Oma realizing that on his days off, he’d long for Shuichi’s presence, and their countless messages to each other that make the longing a little more bearable. 

It’s new to Oma. He’s never… craved the company of another. It makes him feel pathetic, but also… kind of lonely. 

It makes the moments when he’s around Shuichi all the better. 

**XV.**

He becomes Kokichi to Shuichi. Being addressed by his given name, despite giving Shuichi his explicit permission, makes Kokichi feel giddy.

**XVI.**

School isn’t so bad… especially on the days that Shuichi takes the train over so they can walk home together.

Side by side.

Hand in hand.

**XVII.**

He wants to kiss Shuichi.

**XVIII.**

Kokichi’s room is a less depressing place when he has Shuichi to sneak in. The two of them waste time by watching movies on Kokichi’s computer or playing board games that Shuichi carried in. 

**XIX.**

Shuichi speaks up from behind the register when the store is devoid of customers. “I noticed…” he starts, scratching at his wrist, and Kokichi looks up to make eye contact “at first, you always had this smile on, but it was just pretend…”

Kokichi doesn’t have time to react before Shuichi’s continuing his train of thought.

“But when I asked for your phone number, you had a different smile for the first time. It made me really happy to see that I made you smile for real…” Shuichi fumbles with his hands, but Kokichi doubts that Shuichi’s more embarrassed than he is after hearing something so… sentimental. 

**XX.**

Shuichi’s favorite thing about Kokichi may be seeing him smile, but Kokichi’s favorite thing about Shuichi is feeling his warm arms enveloping him when they hug.

Kokichi’s feelings have escalated so much that he’s drowning in them, and he doesn’t ever want to come up for air. 

**XXI.**

Oma’s long sleeves usually hide the finger-sized bruises on his arms, but he can’t hide the ones around his neck.

Shuichi goes on high alert as he shuts the door behind them. It is the first time he’s seeing where Kokichi lives - besides when he snuck into Kokichi’s window with snacks to watch a movie on his computer - but it isn’t the time to take notice of the dilapidated state of the furniture and wallpaper. All he can focus on is the alarming marks on Kokichi’s neck that look like someone shoved him up against a wall and didn’t let him breathe for who knows how long. “W _hat happened?"_ Concerned, he reaches a hand out to gesture and Oma _flinches_. 

Oma wants to tell him, “I forgot to lock the door, so my aunt got mad,” _because, she didn’t want him to begin with, it’s not her fault she got stuck with him after his parents left_. He wasn’t wanted. _At least he had somewhere to sleep_ , his aunt would tell him, and Oma thought she was right. 

But he can’t tell him that, because that would mean seeing the look in Shuichi’s eyes as he realizes Kokichi is a burden to him too.

“It’s nothing,” he deflects.

It’s silent as Saihara mumbles, but in a way that’s loud enough to hear, “I knew something was off when we first met. When you got so guarded about how you got that scrape on your cheek. I thought maybe someone was bullying you at school, but after we started walking together, I knew that wasn’t the case.”

Oma shrinks back, but Saihara keeps going.

“I didn’t push it at the time, because it was none of my business, but… was it… your guardian?”

He says “guardian” because Oma hasn’t spoken a word to him about his aunt. But the silence is Shuichi’s answer.

“Kokichi, you have to tell someone- you can’t just let them-” _let them what? Give him what he deserves? He’s a problem child. A burden. A -_

“I can’t.” Saihara doesn’t understand. _Oma doesn’t even have it that bad._ _It could be so much worse, and he can stick it out for a few more years, can’t he?_

 _A failure._ “It won’t get better if you don’t report this!”

Oma avoids his eyes. “Shut up.”

 _A mistake._ “I’m trying to help,” he says pleadingly, _desperately._

“Maybe I don’t want your help! I’m not some problem that you have to solve Saihara!”

Saihara’s lips thin and when Oma expects him to retaliate he just - _leaves_. He turns around and runs off, shutting the door behind him.

It’s only after he’s gone and Oma is standing in the middle of the quiet, empty room that Oma is encompassed in the feeling of absolute dread. 

**XXII.**

Saihara doesn’t show up for work the next day. Oma feels guilt gnawing at him during his shift, because it’s all his fault. He shouldn’t have pushed Saihara away. He texts him “sorry” and “can we talk?” through budding tears and hopes Saihara can forgive him. 

**XXIII.**

He hasn’t texted him back anything in the past forty-eight hours, so Oma sighs and lets his feelings pour out in a long message when Saihara doesn’t answer his call. He tells him that he’s sorry, and that he doesn’t want Saihara to hate him.

**XXIV.**

The water cup he filled the night before has an almost stale taste to it in the morning, but Oma drinks it anyway because his throat is dry, and he can’t summon the energy to get up even though he’s been sleeping for the past thirteen hours. He’s still tired once he sets the cup down so he scrolls mindlessly through his past messages to and from Saihara before staring at Saihara’s last message to him, before their fight. He hasn’t said anything since.

He doesn’t go to school; he’s already sleeping again by the time it starts and he’s too preoccupied to care.

**XXV.**

With no reply, Oma gets worried really quickly. It’s unlike Saihara to completely… cut him off. He at least figured Saihara would reject his apology upfront instead of hiding away and giving him the silent treatment. 

His chest makes that twisting feeling again and he feels unbearably nauseous when he goes to Saihara’s apartment and no one opens the door. There’s not even the telltale sound of footsteps towards the door to signal someone checking who’s there.   
  


It’s like no one’s home.

-

He sits curled up in his blankets and practically spams Saihara with messages of “please answer me” and “tell me that you’re okay” but Saihara answers none of them. He’s sweating, and heaving, and he doesn’t care if Saihara hates him, he only wants him to say _something_. Oma needs a reply so he doesn’t keep panicking like he is now, thinking something happened to Saihara; he feels sick, and he can’t stop thinking about it. 

**XXVI.**

Oma tries to rationalize. Saihara doesn’t have any family, and after Oma shut him out, maybe he simply… left. Just because he disappeared doesn’t mean something bad happened.

 _But,_ Oma thinks, _what if something bad did happen. What if Saihara was abducted - or - or - killed?_ The thought of Saihara being dead makes Oma so uncomfortable; his throat feels like it’s closing up and it’s hard to swallow his own saliva. He’s growing more and more anxious each day he shows up to work and Saihara isn’t there beside him, despite being scheduled. 

**XXVII.**

The metal of the buttons and zipper on his clothes feel especially cold against his skin as he gets ready for school. He probably looks terrible, but he can’t find it in himself to worry about that. 

He has more important things to worry about.

Saihara is more important.

**XXVIII.**

Oma remembers sending in his Danganronpa application and thinks, _this would be the perfect time to forget everything I’ve ever cared about_ , but then, _what if Saihara comes back?_

He wants Saihara to come back.

He wants to say sorry for shutting him out when he shouldn’t have.

He wants to have more long conversations about whatever comes to mind. 

He wants to see Saihara smile at him again.

He wants to sit next to Saihara and watch movies for hours on end. 

He wants to feel Saihara’s hands on his like that day when Saihara gave him that stupid Kirigiri band-aid.   


He wants Saihara to forgive him.

**XXIX.**

His aunt makes him feel worthless.

**XXX.**

He should’ve kissed him when he had the chance.

**XXXI.**

Oma lies in his unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling, phone in hand.   
  


It’s been over a week. 

Why hasn’t Saihara replied to him? _How can he fix this? Did Saihara forget about him like everyone else has?_

His eye sockets are weighed down by a combination of depression and sleep deprivation.

His phone speaker blares through the silence - _his alarm_ \- his mind supplies through the ever-unchanging headache. He turns it off, already awake, and forces himself out of the temporary comfort of his blanket’s embrace, and gets dressed for work. Because he has to. Because he doesn’t know what else he’ll do if he doesn’t.

Because he hopes Saihara will show up. 

(He doesn’t.)

On his walk home from work, he’s approached and pulled into a car, hearing the engine and looking out at the silent street as he falls into panicked unconsciousness. The initiation for the fifty-third killing game commences.

-

Oma hesitates as he comes to the memories section of the contract. Even after everything, the participants won’t get their memories back... he won’t remember ever meeting Saihara; he won’t remember falling in love. He’ll know of nothing but whatever backstory Team Danganronpa cooks up for him.

But...

Saihara’s gone. As hard as it is to think about, Oma doesn’t think Saihara will be waiting for him once the simulation ends. No one cares about him anyways, so he might as well make things interesting, right?

...right?

  
  


Oma’s nose is tingly; his lower eyelids are about to spill over as he signs the contract, signing his past and present away. 

Two doors down, Shuichi Saihara does the same.

**I.**

_Life has no meaning._

**Author's Note:**

> Hah.. so, yeah… um. I haven’t written angst much lately. I hope this was satisfactory… 
> 
> The roman numerals go back to number one again for the last line because I kinda wanted to signify the reset?? of their memories and lives, and also as a “new” starting point. And, tbh I also just reaaally like the aesthetic in stories where the first line is repeated as the last line. Eheh. So, I really hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. The awesome thing about this exchange was that it gave me the chance to write something I would never write otherwise, because I main fluff, but I *really* wanted to try something outside my comfort zone to just get a feel for other writing styles. Pfff at some point I even googled how to write good angst ffs ahahaha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
